Entr'acte: A Rewrite
by Ky'atia
Summary: Prequel to The Dance. Fred and Oliver slash. This goes over Fred and Oliver's relationship and why they never became anything more. In progress, but will have regular updates! Rating may go up.
1. Chapter 1

**Entr'acte: Chapter 1**

_A multi-chapter story by Ky'atia_

_Part of the "The Dance" series; Prequel to "The Dance"_

**oOoOoOo**

Fred dashed down the corridor of the school train, not caring who or what he ran into. He was devastated. He couldn't remember that last time he had been this upset. Echoes from the fight that morning still rang in his memory.

_He knocked again, this time more loudly, on their bedroom door, worried. It was unlike George to keep their door locked. Getting no reply yet again, he knew there had to be something wrong. He unlocked the door with his wand, pulled the door open, and drew back in revulsion at the sight he found there._

Fred found himself sitting in an empty compartment, not entirely sure how he had gotten there. It didn't matter. Nothing really did just then. He had lost his best friend, his brother, over an argument. Well, several really. They had been having arguments over the summer holidays. They had started small; more of a disagreement, but soon the twins were hardly speaking. He knew they should have stopped arguing sooner, but they didn't, and this last fight had been the icing on the cake for both of them. They couldn't take it any longer.

"_Another one, George?!"_

"_Why the hell do you care? It isn't your business. It's--"_

"_The hell it isn't! My own brother, a--"_

"_Don't even say it again! I don't want to hear it any more."_

"_Then stop doing it! What are you on now? Isn't this the seventh this summer alone?!"_

"_Yes, it is. And I don't see how it has anything to do with you. It isn't like you care."_

"_I don't CARE?! George, just tell me why you are doing this."_

"_Fuck you, Fred. I am done with this."_

"_Oh, yeah? Well I have news for you George. This fighting bullshit is over. All I have tried to do this summer was talk with you. You only get defensive, and you know what? That is fine. I don't care anymore. Fuck this; I hate being your twin."_

_They both looked at each other in disbelief; they were at a loss for words. Never in their lives had they ever said, or even thought, anything like that. _

"_George, I--"_

"_Don't speak to me."_

_And he left, leaving Fred alone without another word._

Fred felt his forehead pressing against the cool glass window. He was paying to attention to the countryside passing by him. He simply didn't care. It seemed like their argument had happened such a long time ago, when in reality it was mere hours beforehand. He closed his eyes and tried to forget the morning's events. He didn't even notice when someone joined him in the compartment.

"Do you mind if I sit… Fred? Is that you?"

Fred looked up. He must have looked horrible because Oliver ran over and sat down next to him. "Fred, what happened to you?"

"Nothing, Oliver. Thank you. Unless, of course, you count being hit by a train. And of course you can sit here," Fred sniffled and wiped his eyes. He hadn't even realized that his face was covered in tears.

"Are you sure you're okay? I don't normally see people crying if they are perfectly happy."

Fred nodded. "You're right. I just don't really want to talk about it just now."

"Should I leave?" he asked.

"No. Don't go," Fred pleaded, surprising himself. "It's just… I would like the company is all."

"Where is George?"

Fred's breathing changed at once and Oliver jumped back. "What is wrong? Is he okay?"

Fred covered his face and nodded. "We… we… just had a fight," Fred sobbed, his mind opening up, thoughts pouring out in a flood. "A really, bad, stupid fight and it was my fault because I shouldn't have been bothering him but I kept pressing it and should have just left him alone but I had to go on and say that and I don't even know why I said it because now I feel so stupid because now he is mad at me and won't talk to me and it is my fault."

Oliver sat looking stunned for a moment before awkwardly patting Fred on the shoulder. "Umm… well, I am sorry to hear about that, Fred," he said. "Is there anything that I can do right now?"

"No. Not really. The last time something like this happened it took us months to speak again. We never fight, but when we do, it is horrible."

"Well, I am sure in time it will blow over," he replied, trying to comfort him somehow.

"I'm sure he's already gotten to our friends and told them that I was just being horrible or something."

"Why don't you just come with me for the Start-of-Term feast?"

Fred thought about that for a moment. He and George always ate the Start-of-Term feast together. But, eating with George wasn't an option, so what did he have to lose? He and Oliver were good enough friends from their years of Quidditch together. What harm could there possibly come from eating a meal with a friend? "Are you sure?"

"Of course. We've known each other for years and never spent any time together. Why not?"

"Well… okay. You're right! Why not?"

"Good. Now, let's go ahead and get changed. It will be awhile before we get there, but the changing rooms will be crowded later."

**oOoOoOo**

Later that night, Fred and Oliver sat across from one another in the Great Hall. Neither could remember the last time they'd just sat and talked and it was quite refreshing for the both of them to catch up, especially for Fred. Not only did it help keep his mind off of his problems with George, but he had been worried that he would be spending this year mostly alone. Oliver, it seemed, was willing to be his friend when he needed one and that meant the world to Fred.

"What are you planning to do after Hogwarts, Oliver?"

Oliver took a drink of his pumpkin juice and replied slowly, "Well… I might try out for a Quidditch league. I don't really know. I guess I haven't given it much thought."

Fred nodded. "I understand. I know I'm only in fifth year, but I do still need to think about it. I don't have a clue about any 'real' jobs. The only thing I've ever wanted to do is open up a joke shop with George, but now…"

"Hey, don't worry about it. I know it is hard now, but you two will patch things up. I know it."

Fred blinked back emotion and met Oliver's eyes. "Thanks. We might, but it will… be quite a while."

"Well, you know you can always talk to me," Oliver said earnestly.

"I know. And that makes a difference. Thank you."

Dumbledore then called their attention to the front of the room and announced the end of the feast. The room filled with the deafening screeches of the benches being pushed back. Oliver motioned for Fred to walk with him to the common room. They heard someone announce that the password was 'Quidditch' when they arrived at the entrance.

After they climbed through the portrait hole, the two parted ways to unpack in their respective dormitories. Once Fred got to his room, he saw George. George didn't look at him. "George…"

The only sign that George had even heard his brother was a slight stiffening of the shoulders before returning to his unpacking.

"George, please. I am sorry. I didn't mean it!" Fred pleaded with him. But by the looks of things, to George, Fred may as well have not even been there. Fred walked over to him and grabbed his shoulders, spun him around to face him. George wouldn't have it. He struggled to get free from his brother's grasp and punched him hard in the stomach. Fred collapsed to the ground, clutching his stomach. George glared down at him and stalked out of their dormitory.

A wave of anger washed over Fred. 'Fine,' he thought. 'If that is how he wants to be, then that is great. I don't need him and he obviously doesn't need me. I have another friend. I don't need him or his friends.'

Fred brought himself gingerly to his feet and began unpacking. The blow would probably leave a bruise, but it didn't matter. He had truly lost George. He had thought that it would hurt more than it was. Maybe the pain came later, once the anger ran out.

**oOoOoOo**

A/N: So, I know this was a short chapter. I promise that they will get longer. This is currently un-beta read. If anyone would be willing to beta read for me, please drop me a line. Thank you. Right now, this story looks like it will be between 12 and 15 chapters, certainly no shorter, and possibly longer. Please feel free to send in your requests. If there is a particular scene that you have always wanted to see with Oliver and Fred, I will do my best to include it so long as it won't interfere with the overall plot too much, and I will give you credit for the idea. Review, please! Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Entr'acte: Chapter 2

**Entr'acte: Chapter 2**

_A multi-chapter story by Ky'atia_

_Part of the "The Dance" series: Prequel to "The Dance"  
_

**oOoOoOo**

It was midnight and everyone else had long since gone to bed, the excitement of the first day back to Hogwarts coercing them to their beds much sooner than normal. Only Fred Weasley remained awake. He sat and looked on as the fire gradually turned to embers. As he glanced at the clock, he sighed; he had to be awake in seven hours. He really needed to be getting to sleep, but something was holding him back. It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep; certainly he did. Surely the darkness of sleep was better than lying awake, turning over again and again the events of the day. Was it really less than a day ago that he and George had stopped speaking? It seemed like so much longer.

Fred pulled up his shirt and looked down at his stomach. He nodded sadly to himself. Sure enough, he could see that his skin had darkened where George had punched him. It wasn't as if he didn't deserve it for saying such horrible things, but that didn't stop it from hurting more than just his skin. He pushed his shirt back down and lied down on the couch. Sighing, he closed his eyes in a small attempt at relaxation and tried to forget about their fight. The room was silent except for the drizzling of rain outside for quite some time. And just as he was drifting off to sleep…

"Fred?" came a voice from behind him.

Fred shot up off the couch, his heart racing. "Yes? Who's there?" he asked. The person was covered in shadows. He saw a figure step through the darkness. It was Oliver.

"It is just me. I had a lot on my mind and just couldn't sleep so I thought I'd come down here to think. Should I go?"

"No, no. Don't go." Fred motioned to a spot next to him. "You can sit with me. I can't really sleep either." He rubbed his eyes and yawned deeply.

Oliver crossed the room and sat next to Fred. "Sorry if I am intruding. I know you must have a lot to think about."

"You are not intruding at all. I could really use the company, actually. But don't worry about me; you said you had a lot on your mind. What is it?"

Oliver sat in silence for a moment and sighed, looking away from Fred. "I… well… my parents want me to do something after Hogwarts that I am not exactly… interested in doing. I want to play Quidditch and eventually marry, but it seems… they have other plans for me."

"Like what?"

Oliver met Fred's curious eyes and smiled. "It is a bit complicated, really. Maybe I'll tell you another time."

"Oh… okay."

"Well, what classes are you taking this year?" Oliver asked, in a rather obvious attempt at changing the subject, but Fred didn't protest.

"Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Astronomy… the usual garbage. Honestly, I'm not sure why I am going to need all this. After all, George and I are going to open up our own store, so…" Fred felt a pang shoot through his chest as the fight from earlier echoed through his mind. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn't want Oliver to see him cry again. "What about you? What classes are you taking this year?"

"Umm… Ancient Runes, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Potions, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, and… I think that is it."

Fred's mouth was agape. "How are you going to keep your head from exploding? Seriously!" he added, watching Oliver laugh, "I would die from Arithmancy alone, forget the rest of it!"

"It isn't that bad, Fred. Besides, I don't have a lot of choice. My parents are making me take the courses. They say that they will be useful once I am in, well, the real world, I guess. They are probably right. But about Arithmancy, it isn't my biggest worry. My Potions course will be done through private lessons."

"Why? I thought Snape never gave private lessons to anyone…"

"Well, he and my father are friends, you see. And my father wants me to 'get ahead' so he got him to agree to give me the lessons."

"Sounds like a nightmare, honestly. I hate potions."

"I am actually fairly good, if you would need any help."

"Thanks. If I decide not to fail, I might take you up on that."

"Don't you want to do well?"

"Nah, not really. Can't do too well or else Mum will expect it all the time."

Oliver smiled at him. "See? You sound more like yourself already."

"Well, I feel better having someone to talk to. It is just hard not having George around."

"It's okay. Why don't we have breakfast tomorrow or Wednesday? It might help to keep your mind off things. What is your schedule for the next few days?"

"Let's see… Tuesday I don't have class until 10:00 and I am free again after 3:00. Wednesday, I have class from 9:00 until 1:00."

"I've got History of Magic at 8:00, and I doubt you want to get up really early. We could wait until lunch, maybe."

Fred nodded. "If I happen to become masochistic between now and 7:00, I'll see you there, but waiting until lunch is more likely. What time should we meet?"

"Well, I finish up with Charms at noon and am free until 1:00. How does that sound?"

"Great. I have that hour free too."

He smiled and stood to leave. "Sounds great. I'll see you then, Fred. Good night."

"Thanks for everything, Oliver," he said.

Oliver nodded, still smiling, and walked up to his room.

Fred stared into the fireplace thinking of tomorrow and whispered absently to himself, "Thanks for everything…"

**oOoOoOo**

The next morning, Fred found himself lying awake in his bed before the sun had fully risen. He rolled over and saw his twin staring at him with… was that a look of sadness? George hastily looked down at his shoes and began tying them before Fred could tell. Fred sat up in bed and opened his mouth to speak but was silenced by a glare from George as he walked away. Fred got up and followed him.

"George! Wait!"

George didn't wait. He kept walking down the stairs, into the common room, and finally out of the Gryffindor tower altogether with Fred calling to him the whole way. About halfway down the hallway George spun and looked Fred in the eye.

"Why the hell are you following me?" he spat at him.

Fred was visibly hurt. "George, I just want to talk to you…"

"Talk."

"I… I just…" Fred faltered. "I am sorry for saying that about you. About us. You know I don't hate being your twin."

The fire in George's eyes grew to a blaze at the mention of Fred's words. He turned and kept walking, his robes dancing like flames behind him.

"George, wait!"

George turned once more and stalked back towards Fred. "You call me names, say you hate being my twin, and all you can say is that you're sorry?! Fred, you need to leave me alone. I don't want to speak to you. Don't talk to me anymore. Don't even _look_ at me. For now, I want nothing to do with you. Am I clear?"

Fred's gaze was fixed on a bit of paper on the floor. He nodded, not looking away. George turned and walked away. He didn't look back.

**oOoOoOo**


End file.
